The Fall of Athens
by Mozquito12
Summary: He can't sleep again. Not tonight. Not with the grinding pangs of hunger constantly ravaging his stomach, not with his mouth dry, longing for the slightest taste of food again. Inside, he is shattered to the point of just being unable to sleep. And yet, he isn't weary enough that he will give up fighting. Never. Historical!AU One-shot


The Fall of Athens

He can't sleep again. Not tonight. Not with the grinding pangs of hunger constantly ravaging his stomach, not with his mouth dry, longing for the slightest taste of food again. Inside, he is shattered to the point of just being unable to sleep. And yet, he isn't weary enough that he will give up fighting. Never.

The city of Athens is dark, the noticeable absence of the moon smothered with death and despair, the smell of rot and disease wafting through the grim, tense air. There is no point trying to escape this sadistic, merciless time through sleep, even though - according to the ruthless Romans laying siege aroundhis city - it is the Kalends of March, the start of a new month, meant to be a sign of another hopeful beginning. That's definitely not happening with those invaders camped circling them, cutting them off from supplies, food and communication. They are trapping them in the very place where they are supposed to be strongest, the greatest city in the _whole of Greece!_ Perhaps that is why he decides to clamber off of the bed, grab a few items, scramble out of the window and shimmy down the conveniently grown pine tree adjacent to the stone walls – because to Percy, this war between Rome and Greece isn't just a matter of conquering land. It's a battle of Greek freedom and Roman domination, and at the moment? Let's just say his side are not winning.

Oof. His feet hit the ground in a not so comfortable way, but he tugs his cloak and hood on over his colourless tunic and starts walking in the direction where there seems to be the least of that nauseating stink anyway. The smell is enough to make him want to be sick - if there had been anything in his stomach, he probably would have been. The vile stench is the consequence of the Romans cutting them off from their neighbouring city, Piraeus. It had been the closest port-city and therefore their connection to the world around them, but about four months ago, all contact between the two civilisations had ceased as the enemy tried to seize control. Ever since the start of spring, Athens had begun to starve, and now it was coming to such a problem that the dead bodies of some of the less fortunate poor were rotting in the damp alleyways, their remains teeming with flies and other flesh-eating creatures. Recently, Percy has taken to scavenging the richer parts of the settlement. Although he hates to leave a mark on those glorious marble structures, it is the only section of the capital that still has supplies. The family that he comes from isn't underprivileged, to say the least, but no one is surviving without being decadent. Nobody can look at the prices in the market without looking hopeless, with their spirits crushed. It's gotten that bad.

 **Ω**

He's walking along the inner city walls now after his latest theft, where the guards stand facing the Roman camp. Just out of his peripheral vision, he can see the a few of the 'lesser beings' crumpled on the ground, their baggy clothes almost falling off, skeletal hands clutching ribs that are all too visible. He can barely see the rise-and-fall of their chests – the only thing that tells him that they are still alive.

He's just considering whether to place a portion of the dry, hard bread at their feet when suddenly, a huge ' _BOOM!_ ' echoes across the sky. His breath quickens and his pulse is racing. What was that? Have the Roman army finally decided to attack? Was anyone hurt? _What about his family?_ Eyes wide, he drops his extra luggage and starts sprinting down the cobblestone road. The _slap slap slap_ of his sandals resounds down the walls but Percy keeps going, not caring who he's disturbing. They'll be awake anyway. A second bang is heard, and another, but this time he can tell it sounds more like a battering ram against the north-west side of the city walls. At this realisation, he picks up his pace even more – his home is dangerously close to that section.

Through his blurred eyesight, he spots alarmed citizens peering out of doorways, Greek soldiers running towards the breached barrier, and worst of all – _smoke._ ' _There's no smoke without fire,'_ his mother had always said. Maybe he hadn't meant it literally then, but right now it was more than just a phrase. Percy could already smell burning (he knows what it's like, the constant burnt offerings in his household have ensured that) and he grits his teeth, muttering a quick prayer to the gods needed right now – Zeus, Poseidon, Ares and most of all, the patron goddess of their city – Athena. He's more than a simple, _naïve fourteen year old boy; he knows there won't be much chance of Greece winning this one and yet nothing can stop the skinny (well, they all are) boy - with arms pumping, legs aching – from racing through the now crowded streets. He_ _has_ _to get to his family._

 **Ω**

In the end, he was too late. Their avenue had already become overrun with Roman soldiers, hacking their way into every building, stripping away the city's beauty Percy had come to know. They were everywhere, killing citizens left and right. Blood had literally flowed down the streets. He had weaved in and out of the enemy, ducking and jumping, hoping against hope that he would reach them first. Somehow, he knew that the Romans had already reached them first, but Percy had shoved those thoughts into the back of his mind, refusing to believe it.

When at last he had skidded to a stop, an officer had just plunged his gladius into his sister's midsection and tossed her onto a pile where his mother and father already lay. Percy had stood there in shock, until a roaring wave of rage and anger came crashing down on him like a tsunami. He saw red, and had leapt at the officer, tearing at the man's face, armour, _anything_ he could get a hold of. Animalistic shrieks of disbelief, fury and madness tore from his throat all the while, until the suffering soldier's centurion had picked Percy up by the scruff of his neck, and thrown him to the ground in contempt where he had lain there in a senseless, pain-induced daze. At one point later on (it could have been seconds, it could have been years, Percy didn't know) a different soldier had dragged him up into chains along with 200,000 other prisoners of war.

 **Ω**

Decades later, as a slave in the _Eternal City_ , he still remembers his 5 year-old sister's lifeless body, flung aside as easily as the dolls she used to play with. He will never forget the hatred he felt pulsing through his body as he attempted to extract revenge on her killer. He will never forgive these Romans for what they did to his city, his _home_. Although he is healing, bit by bit, those scars will remain in his heart forever. And yet, somehow, this has become home, in the house of his master's family who treat him well.


End file.
